YURI

CHAPTER EIGHT

After class, just as I was packing up my notes, my lecturer called me over. His tone was casual, but there was a certain glint in his eyes that made my stomach tighten.

“Yuri,” he said, “I’ve got some news for you… good news. The architectural program you applied for—you got it. It’s an internship with one of the top firms in New York.”

For a second, I just stood there, blinking at him, waiting for the words to fully sink in.

New York.

The opportunity of a lifetime. A golden ticket for my career.

And yet… the moment excitement started to bubble up, it collided hard with the reality I’d been living. Mom’s face flashed in my mind—her warm smile, her tired eyes, the way she tried to hide the pain even when I could see right through her.

It was bittersweet—more bitter than sweet, if I was honest. On one hand, this could open doors I’d dreamed of my whole life. On the other, how could I even think about leaving when Mom’s cancer was spreading, when every day with her felt more precious than the last?

I managed to thank him, keeping my voice steady, but inside, I felt torn right down the middle.

He seemed to notice the storm of emotions flickering across my face. “The program doesn’t officially start until next year,” he added gently, as if that would somehow lighten the weight pressing down on me. Then he gave me a sad, understanding smile—the kind that says *I know this means a lot to you, but I also know you’re dealing with more than you’re saying*—and quietly walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I lingered in the empty classroom for a moment,

I’m an art and architecture major. Ever since I was little—since the first time I stepped foot in that big manor I now call home—I’ve wanted to design and build one of my own. Not just a house, but a masterpiece… something that could stand for generations.

And through it all, Mom was always there. Always encouraging my sketches, always telling me my ideas weren’t “too big” or “too much,” always believing I could do it. She was my biggest cheerleader.

I can’t imagine stepping into that dream without her by my side. I can’t imagine building the life I’ve always wanted, knowing she might not be there to see it.

I didn’t have it in me to spend time anywhere else but at home, and I’m glad Margo and Kris understood. They often came by with snacks, flowers, and stories from outside, trying to bring a little normalcy into the house. They’d sit by mom’s bedside, chatting like nothing was wrong, and for a brief moment, we could all pretend that things were the way they used to be—before the hospital visits, before the hushed conversations, before the reality that hung over us like a storm cloud.